finding happiness
by twisted perfection
Summary: It’s been seven years since anyone from Westchester has seen the beautiful amber-eyed alpha, Massie Block. They all thought she drowned, like hundreds of others, in that terrible ship accident. Little did they know that she was the only survivor.
1. no way to get out

**Disclaimed. (:**

Hey, everyone :) So it's been a while since I've posted much of anything up, and I was planning on going on a hiatus, but I decided that I'd fix up some of my other stories and see if I could continue on with them. All of these chapters have been edited—but just barely. I basically left everything as is.

**Enjoy! :)  
**

-x-

"Ah," sixteen-year-old Massie Block sighed peacefully, putting on her oversize Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses that she had packed just for this trip. She was lounging on a bright purple, inflatable waterbed in the huge pool of SS Lillian, one of her father's many extravagant cruise ships.

It had been a sunny Tuesday morning when she announced, in the middle of an Inez-prepared family brunch, that she wanted to go on a cruise. At first her parents had been doubtful, asking her why and what about school and stuff Massie couldn't care less about. Massie patiently explained to them that every adult has a mid-life crisis, and every teenager has a quarter-life crisis, and it just so happened that she was going through hers.

Of course, she didn't go into specific details.

You could not expect parents to see the awb-vious gravity of her boyfriend dumping her to go out with her red-headed, burping best friend, much less understand that her social life was going down the drain. Massie needed a vacation – not just to relax, but to plan and think and plot privately, where she wouldn't have to be stressed with the constant strain of making her life seem perfect.

After giving her father several I'm-gonna-die-if-you-don't-let-me-do-this pouts, and kissing up to her mother overtime, they finally agreed. Now, here she was, checking out cute guys on the deck of a five-star cruise ship.

Destination? Hawaii, of course!

Massie adjusted the straps of her gold bikini, taking off her sunglasses and placing them on her hair like a headband. She sighed again. It was probably almost time for her mani-pedi.

Painstakingly taking off her sunglasses – for the third time – she put them on the inflatable bed. Hooking her bangs behind her ears, Massie stood up slowly, before doing a perfect swan dive into the water. She swam all the way to the ladder, climbing up and smiling at the ah-dorable HART who handed her a towel as soon as she was out of the pool.

"Can you get that water-bed for me?" She asked him, pointing to the purple inflatable, "Just tell the front desk to bring it up to Room 100. Oh, and make sure the sunglasses don't get lost. Thanks!" She flashed him a smile and waved, walking away before he could answer.

After changing into her after-swimming outfit – a gorgeous red Chanel dress and silver wedges – she went up to her room and called the mani-pedi people.

"Hello? Hi, this is Massie Block. Is, uhm," She glanced at the name on the wrinkled piece of paper she held in her hand, "Olivia Murin there? I just wanted to tell her that I'll be skipping my appointment today."

After the lady confirmed it was fine, Massie turned her cell phone on vibrate. She clipped her bangs back – they were getting really ah-nnoying – and jumped on her bed, lying flat on her back. Not bothering to change, she kicked off her wedges and pulled the sheets over her body, closing her eyes.

_You've got to start working on your tan! _A tiny voice inside her head screamed frantically, reminding her of all the things that she had yet to do.

_And Alicia is going to steal your spot if you don't do something, _another voice chimed in. Soon her head was filled with urgent voices, all pressing her about something or other.

Massie groaned, burying her head even deeper into the bed, so that the voices were muffled. She begged them to go away.

Right now, all Massie wanted to do was sleep…

Sleep…

Sleep…

_Sleep…_

-x-

Massie awoke to the sound of frantic screams.

She got up in a hurry, annoyed that this commotion had wakened her from her la-la land, where her and Chace Crawford were just about to kiss. Ugh.

Throwing on some plain black flats and fixing her hair into a high ponytail, she applied some Vanilla Ice-Cream lip-gloss. A quick peek at the hallway mirror showed her that she was looking public-worthy. She pushed open the heavy door, looking around. Everyone was poking their heads out of their rooms, looking around in confusion. People were running around the hallways, some carrying crying babies and tugging on screaming preschoolers.

"What's wrong?" Massie worriedly asked a passing maid, who was practically sprinting down the hall.

"There's a horrible storm…don't know what they're gonna do – Cap'n said we might sink –" She ran off without any more explanation.

Massie's eyes widened. "Are you _serious?_" She cried after the maid, desperately hoping the employee would turn around and shout, 'April Fools!' Massie bit her lip. Even she knew that was a little too far-fetched. Why would anyone go to such measures for a prank?

"Ehmagawd," Massie whispered to herself, over and over again as she examined the scene. "Ehmagawd, ehmagawd, ehmagawd."

She rushed back into her room and grabbed purple handbag and her tan trench coat, threading her arms through the sleeves as she slammed the door shut. For the first time in her life, she actually _ran _to the front desk, cutting through the mile-long line of people already there.

When they loudly protested, she shot them her infamous alpha glare, saying, "My father _owns _this boat, and if it's going to sink then I think I should be informed before anyone else."

They shut up.

Massie asked the employee who was working the front desk what was happening, but he just shrugged. "I'm sorry miss, but I'm really not sure right now." Massie groaned loudly. She wanted to stamp her feet down, like a little kid, but she resisted only because she was in a room full of people.

"Mr. Malcolm!" She practically shrieked when she saw the harassed manager walk quickly by. He turned around, his face lined with worry.

"Ah, Massie, not to worry, everything is fine…" He comforted her before she even said a word.

Massie pursed her lips, knowing that he was lying. "What's happening?"

"It's just a little storm, maybe a hurricane, nothing to worry about." Mr. Malcolm explained, forcing a smile. "The crew is getting everything under control. We're in the eye of it so far, but we're not sure what's going to happen when we go past it. I'm sure it will all turn out perfectly," he added hastily when he saw her expression.

"Wait, but what about—" Massie was about to say, but he hurried away, trying to calm the crowd of guests down. She took a deep breath. _Okay, Massie, get yourself together. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay._

She whipped out her diamond-studded cell phone from her purse, pressing 1. Even though she wouldn't admit it, she had her parents first on her speed dial.

"Hello?" The refreshing sound of her mother's voice made Massie want to burst into tears.

"Mom, it's Massie!" Massie shouted over the noise that the people on the ship were making.

"Massie? Hello, dear! How's the trip so far?" Kendra exclaimed.

"It's been fine, but we've hit a little trouble! Something about a hurricane!" Massie replied loudly, maneuvering her way through the crowd so that she was out in the open deck.

"I'm sorry, honey, I can't hear you over all that noise. Is there a party happening or something?"

"No, Mom! There's a storm! A hurricane!" Massie shouted desperately into the phone.

"A candy lane? What in the heavens is that?" Kendra laughed.

Massie groaned. Ugh. What was she going to do? "MOM! Listen to me carefully. There's a _storm. _A _hurricane!"_

"A _hurricane_? What?!" Kendra shrieked, and Massie could imagine her blue eyes going wide when she finally heard the news correctly. "Oh, dear, honey – listen, I'm going to put your father on the line, and he'll tell you exactly what to do!"

Massie sighed in relief. "Okay, sure."

"Massie? Honey?" Her father's familiar deep rumble sounded strange from her cell phone. She swallowed.

"Hey, dad. There's a hurricane here! We're in the eye of it right now, but no one's really doing anything. They're all just screaming…"

"Massie, this is really important. Go find someone and tell him or her to go up to the crew. We need to find out what's going on." His father instructed.

Massie nodded. "Got it. What next?"

"Then, tell them to use their radio to contact someone. They'll know what to do."

"Okay, good. Anything else?"

"Now this is the most important part. After they have contact, you—" His voice stopped abruptly.

Massie's heart leaped into her throat. "Dad? I what? What do I need to do? Dad?"

There was no answer. Massie looked at the small screen of her magenta-coloured cell phone.

The battery was dead.

_Fuck._

-x-

**Since I'm not an expert on hurricanes and what to do when you're in the eye of one on a ship, the details may be unclear. Sorry!**

**Like it, hate it, love it?**

**Review!**


	2. amber delights

Massie Block

-x-

_Dear Dream Diary,_

_I had another dream today - if you can call it that. _

_Instead of the usual Chace Crawford serenading me, I was on a deck of a huge ship, and there were people running all around. I was desperately trying to get someone's attention, but no one would listen to me. _

_I remember the sense of panic and dread, slowly creeping up on me, and the pounding footsteps ringing in my ears as I ran up the stairs to the crew. There were five people - one with a large cap on, who I assumed was the captain. I was screaming, screaming at them, but they just stared at me like I was crazy and asked me if I needed any help._

_They didn't know what I knew._

_They didn't know that the ship was going to sink._

_And right then I realized that my attempts were useless - they didn't care enough to really listen - so I went back to the deck and tried to gather up as many people as I could. A little girl with curly blonde pigtails and wide blue eyes looked at me, and her eyes were so filled with fear that it just made me feel horrible. I told her what was going to happen - but her mother just pulled her away and gave me a disgusted glance._

_With that one look, she had ensured the death of everyone on that ship._

_I found the lifeboats, and untied one and got it ready, trying to remember what I needed. And just as I was about to get in, there was a huge crack of lightning and the ship lurched forward. My head struck something hard and then everything was black._

_The details are fading, even as I write this, and I can't be sure of anything that happened - except for one thing._

_In that dream, I wasn't Maciara B, international supermodel._

_I was Massie Block, normal teenage girl._

_Sometimes I wish I could be Massie Block in real life._

* * *

"Maciara -- Thank Gawd you're here!" Ashley whisper-hissed in my ear the second I took a step on the set. She pasted on a fake cheery smile, nodding once in a while to anyone who looked important.

"Sorry, Ash - traffic was so incredibly crappy today." I apologized under my breath, flashing a bright smile at everyone as I walked, Ashley running to catch up with me. "Besides, it's only two minutes."

"Two minutes? Two _minutes?_ Every minute is worth a million bucks, Maciara. You _know _that you're like a fashion icon. You're like Twiggy. _Every _freakin step you take is recorded on TV. There are thousands of people watching you all the time! You better get your act together—"

"Andre!" I exclaimed happily, cutting Ashley off abruptly as I reached over to hug the french photographer. "I'm so sorry I'm late!"

"Oh, no worries, Maciara," he answered. "It iz only two minutes, no?"

"It's only two minutes, yes," I confirmed, grinning triumphantly at Ashley. She was my agent, sure, and one of the best in Hollywood, but she could be super annoying and picky sometimes.

"Right," she sighed reluctantly, taking off her tan trench coat and throwing it over a nearby chair. She plopped down on it, cupping her face with her hand. "Two minutes."

"Okay, where do I go first?" I announced, looking around.

"To Sandra - she is a _incroyable _makeup artiste. You will love her, no?" Andre directed, spinning me around so I could see a blonde about twenty-five, who smiled and waved at me.

"Yes, I'm sure. Thanks Andre!" I blew him a kiss as I walked over to Sandra.

"Jungle, huh?" she asked me as I sat down on the comfy chair. "That's going to be fun."

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Smoky eyes, super long lashes, glossy lips, straightened hair. A perfect day look that took over two hours, and now, Sandra the 'incroyable makeup artiste' was just going to rub it all off so I could look like some wild tiger.

"Yeah," I answered as she ran a comb through my long hair. "Tons of fun."

* * *

**Derrick Harrington**

-x-

It was an ad in the magazine for men's cologne that started it all.

Even weirder, it was ad from _GQ -_ a magazine that I promised myself I would never, ever read.

So why was it, then, that when I left for work that day, stopped by some random store to get a pack of gum, I felt an almost magnetic pull towards towards that magazine?

I bought it - $2.45. About two dollars too much for such a crappy waste of glossed paper. I stuffed it into my suitcase, kept it close to me as I rode up the elevator, and only dared to let out a breath when I was completely safe, in my office.

Only problem was, my office had glass walls.

_Such a pretty design, _my mother had cooed, when I first got the job. _So elegant, so modern._

_Damn it all_, I thought, and grabbed the magazine, stuffing it into my tux as I pushed the clear door open and muttered some excuse to the secretary about going to the bathroom.

-x-

Once safely hidden in a stall, I took it out and started flipping through the annoying preppy advertisements until I got to the table of contents. I scanned the list with a suspicious eye, looking for what, I wasn't exactly sure.

_Maciara B, a small-town girl turned Hollywood._ _Page 35._

The article was six pages long - two of them coloured advertisements with her posing in them. She had light, light brown hair that was silky and glossy in the light. Pouting, kissable lips. The stereotypical model face - high cheekbones, defined chin, brilliant smile. Slim and tall, with never-ending legs. Her eyes were closed in bliss as she bit into a bar of milk chocolate, her extra-dark, extra-long eyelashes curled up to the extreme.

The other ad was pretty much the same, except this time she was more in the middle ground then the main focus - which was some muscled dude with a chiseled chin and cocky smirk. The slogan was pathetic; _wear this and she'll be after you like a wild thing. _

The model, Maciara or something, was now wearing a skimpy, zebra-print dress, with siren-red heels and her hair teased into a chestnut mess of curls. Her eyes were open this time, so I could see the strange colour of them. They were very light, almost a gold colour. A word was on the tip of my tongue, but I just couldn't seem to find it.

I sighed and closed the magazine, slipping it back into the inner pocket of my suit. I walked out of the stall and washed my hands, thinking.

It was only as I left the restroom and entered back into my office did I remember.

_Amber._

_

* * *

_

**Massie Block**

-x-

"A trip to New York?" I stormed into Ashley's office first thing the next morning, my eyes blazing with fury. "Ashley! What. The. Hell."

The perky blond agent did that click thing with her tongue. "Tsk tsk, Maciara. Come _awn, _it's only for two weeks."

"_Only_? Are you _kidding _me? I have that CoverGirl photo shoot - the Niveau commercial, the Versace runway...I'll be missing so much, Ashley. I can't go." I pleaded with her, pouting my lips and batting my eyelashes.

She rolled her eyes. "Maciara, this is the biggest thing you've seen! You'll be there to _mingle. _Apparently there's some hawt party like in a week or something, where anyone who's anyone will be there. And _you_," she pointed at me with a long, french-manicured finger. "_You _are definitely _someone._ They'll be stars _begging _you to book the job with them in no time."

I plopped down on a comfy chair. "Begging?"

"Begging. And think of it as a vacation - the event's called Twinkle Twinkle. You know, cause everyone's like a super_star_?" Ashley giggled. "And it's not until halfway through. You'll have a whole week to relax, then a couple days after."

"A vacation?" I bit my lip, considering.

"A vacation," Ashley confirmed, smirking as she took out a compact mirror and started reapplying her mascara. "So are you in?"

I swallowed. I sighed. I nodded.

"Yeah...I'm in."


	3. harrington plaza

**Thanks for the awesome reviews on the last chapter, you guys! :) You guys have this talent of like, making my day every time I post up a new chapter. And I know it's taken me the freaking longest time ever to update anything at all, but I swear—I _promise_—that I will try to update this one as frequently as I can.**

**It might be a bit suckish, considering how long it's been since I updated. Sorry; but maybe you'll enjoy it anyway? :)**

**

* * *

Massie Block**

-x-

It took a couple hours to get to New York from Hawaii—because of a delay due to bad weather it took even longer. By the time the plane had stumbled to a halting stop in New York's central airport, I had dowsed off and was just fluttering my eyes open.

"Miss Block?" The airplane stewardess asked quietly, her eyes wide. "Uhm, the plane has stopped, and your agent has asked us to let you off first…"

"Yes, yes," I said a bit impatiently. "Ashley tends to do stuff like that. Can you get someone to get my suitcases down? I'll be waiting outside—I really need some sunlight after all this… _airplane-ness_."

She looked a bit taken aback and offended, but quickly recovered and hastily nodded. "Oh, of course, er, Miss Block. I'll get someone on that right away."

I raised my chin curtly at her. "Good," I said, then grabbed my crocodile-skin Dior purse and walked down the aisle as if it was a runway in my five-inch heels. I avoided eye contact with any of the staring people or the airplane attendants on my way down the stairs and outside.

As soon as my heel touched the gravel, I whipped out a pair of oversize aviators from my purse and slipped them on. It wasn't like I wanted to seem like a bitch—it was just a habit. When you lived the kind of life I did, and were mobbed by hundreds of fans each day, it was safer—for both your physical and mental health—to stay distant from anyone except those you knew you could trust.

"Finally," I breathed when a struggling blonde staggered down the steps with my six suitcases. "That took you long enough."

"Sorry, Miss Block," he gasped, then dropped half of the suitcases down on the ground. "It was a bit of a hassle—"

I had already grabbed the handle of two and was walking ahead to a waiting limo near the airport's crowded parking lot. "Can you grab the other four? It should be lighter now that I took some," I said over my shoulder.

He sighed, looking dejected. When he saw the purse of my lips, however, he straightened up and grabbed the suitcases and hurried after me. "Yes, Miss Block. Whatever you say."

-x-

The hotel, _Harrington Plaza,_ looked shockingly familiar. As soon as you stepped in you were overwhelmed by the tall gold pillars, the deep magenta and mauve color of the stretching walls. It was grand. I shrugged the thought that I had been here before away, then turned the platinum-blonde receptionist.

"Hello there," she chirped, her voice high-pitched. "My name is Olivia Ryan; you can call me Liv or Olivia or even," here she let out a giggle, "Miss Ryan."

I wanted to ask her how old she was—four? I assessed her from behind the lenses of my dark sunglasses, frowning. She looked about twenty, the same age as me. "Uhm, I'll stick with Olivia. I'm Maciara Block, but if you don't know that then you might as well get out from the rock you're hiding under. I want to know which room I'm in, and call a bellboy or someone to get my bags, would you?"

"Oh, of course, _Miss Block._" She giggled again. "I'll get Josh right on that. Hm, and you are in…the penthouse. Just go to the top floor, and you'll be there!"

"Thanks," I said dryly, shooting her somewhat of a genuine smile. I glanced over at my fur-lined suitcases beside me. "Now where is that Josh bellboy?"

"Present," came a deep voice, and I turned to look behind me. Josh, the bellboy, certainly didn't look like what I expected him to look like. He must have been twenty or twenty-one, but his cut and chiseled chin made him look older. He had dark brown eyes, sparkling with good humour, and tan skin that made his muscles pop out even more from under his white t-shirt.

"Well, hello there," I shot him a dazzling smile. "Are you Josh, the bellboy?"

"Call me whatever you'd like, ma'am," he winked. "But yes, I guess I am."

"My bags are over there," I pointed to the suitcases. "If you wouldn't mind…"  
"Oh, not the slightest," he bent over and easily picked up four of the suitcases. then strapped the other two on the suitcase-holder that he was lugging behind him. "The penthouse, I'm assuming?"

"You know it," I said, then sashayed over to the elevator, knowing that the bellboy's eyes were on me, and only me. The last thing I heard before I got in the silver elevator was Olivia's spiteful mutter—

"What a slut," she frowned to herself. "But I guess when you've got a job that is equivalent to the one of a prostitute's, I guess you can't expect anything else."

I pressed the penthouse button on the elevator so hard I think I broke a nail.

* * *

**Derrick Harrington**

-x-

"Oh, Derrick!" I heard the sound of Olivia's heels hitting the marble floor of the Harrington Plaza. "Derrick—"

"Hey, Liv," I turned around and grinned. "What's up?"

"Not much," she giggled. "I just wanted to warn you about that supermodel you were supposed to 'personally care for.' Her name's like, Maciara Block and she's a skank _and _a bitch. Stay away from her, 'kay?"

Olivia Ryan was the receptionist at Harrington Plaza, the hotel that my father owned. I would be the successor, and therefore spent most of my days getting acquainted with the high and mighty of the world. This, unfortunately, also included pretending to be friends with the receptionist. Olivia was a nice girl; she liked shoes and purses and would help an old lady cross the street, but she was so clueless her head might as well be empty. I was forced to put up with her all day, every day.

"Yeah, sure thing, Liv. Don't worry about me," I assured her, and she smiled smugly. She, like the rest of the female population in New York, thought that my heart belonged to her. Ha—fat chance. My heart belonged to myself, pretty much, and it would never belong anywhere else.

"Okay, then. Well, Maciara's up in the penthouse. Josh just went to help her unpack her suitcases and stuff. He's such a manwhore," she rolled her blue eyes. "It's disgusting, watching the two of them flirt with each other. You better put a stop to it before I puke, 'kay, Derry?"

"Sure, Liv," I tried not to wince. 'Derry' was the nickname that my mother had given me when I was four, and I had dropped it a week later. I couldn't believe that Olivia had the same taste as my _mother_. I almost shuddered at the thought. "See you later."

I took the stairs to the penthouse three at a time, my strides long and sure. Going up and down the stairs of a hotel was enough to keep me in shape, although I went to the gym four times a week anyway. When I reached the top floor, I rapped on the door with my knuckles. "Maciara?"

There was some fumbling inside the penthouse, and then some girlish laughter and a low chuckle. Finally, the lock clicked from the inside and the door opened. Standing in the doorway, lo and behold, was Josh Hotz, the bellboy of Harrington Plaza. And he wasn't wearing a shirt.

-x-

I tried not to puke my guts out right then and there. Not only was it disgustingly gross that Josh, the _bellboy_, was practically going to third base with a internationally-famous supermodel, but he didn't have the decency to put on his shirt when the boss's son came to check up on said supermodel!

"Yo, Hotz," I grinned. "As much as I appreciate you deflowering our guests, I think it would be best if you let me handle Miss Block, comprendo?"

"Comprendo, sir," Josh shrugged on his shirt. Josh and I had been friends since forever, and when his father left his mother, he had been in need for money. I talked to Dad, pulled a few strings, and had gotten him the job. But if _this _was what he did with the suitcases he brought up, I might have to get into the matter of replacing him.

"See you later, Maciara," Josh threw her a lavish wink, and she giggled. He stepped out the door, raised an eyebrow at me, and was gone.

I turned to the brunette on the king-sized bed. She was lying down on her stomach in a loose, silvery dress, her head buried in one of the feather pillows.

"Uh, you okay?" I walked over to where she was. "Sorry about that, Miss Block. Sometimes Josh gets out of line… I'll talk to him about, no worries."

She sat up. "Oh, no; that's okay." She smiled at me. "This happens a lot more often than you'd think—and it's usually my fault."

I hadn't noticed how beautiful she was until then. She had large, golden eyes that sparkled with mischief when she spoke. Her hair was very, very light brown, streaked with blonde, and completely straight. Her skin was pretty tan and glowed with health. "Uh—" I couldn't talk. "Uh, yeah. Okay."

She laughed. "Am I making you nervous? Sorry." She jumped off the bed and straightened her dress unabashedly. She beamed, stuck out a manicured hand. "I'm Maciara Block."

Suddenly I remembered the ad in the men's magazine from a couple days ago, and the color of the model's eyes. Amber. "Hey—I know you. You were in that one ad…"

"Hm, maybe I was. I'm in a lot of ads," she said, grinning.

"Yeah, sorry about that. That was really, uh, stupid of me. I meant to say that I saw you in this ad in a magazine, and your eyes…" I trailed off, swallowing. Damn, why did this one supermodel make me so nervous? There were dozens of celebrities, even more famous than her that I barely smiled at. "Your eyes are really awesome."

"Really awesome? Thanks, I guess. I haven't actually heard that compliment before," she giggled and sat back down on the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest.

"Yeah…" I ran a hand through my blonde hair. "Well, I'm not exactly the best with compliments. Anyway, I'm Derrick Harrington—my dad's the owner of the hotel, and I'm usually stuck with the job of introducing myself to everyone. So if you need anything, got any questions, you can just ask Olivia—I think you've met her—for me."

"Oh, I've met Olivia," she said. Her face turned blank for a split second, and then she smiled again. "Thanks, though. If I have anything to ask I'll definitely ask for you."

"No problem," I said.

"Now," she got off the bed again. "If you don't mind, I have to unpack my stuff, and that might be a bit…_personal_." She shot me a flirtatious smile.

"'Course," I grinned, backing off and opening the door. "Ask for me if you need anything, remember."

"Will do!" she chimed, and I closed the heavy glass door.

"Really awesome," I heard her whisper to herself in the penthouse, and then a peal of her giggles rang through the air. "I like that."

I grinned when I ran down the stairs. I liked that, too.

* * *

**Reviews would make my day a whole bunch better. And everyone gets free...icecream? Doesn't everyone love icecream? So yeah. Free icecream for all those who review! :) **

**--Chantal :)  
**


End file.
